In Enemy's Hands
by rayvern
Summary: AU, noncanon. Gryffindor and Slytherin have been at war for ages. A simple, scouting mission goes awry and the Gryffindor group is captured. Problem? A certain blackhaired, greeneyed boy was with them and assumed to be a squib servant. HPLVTMR
1. Chapter 1

Summary: AU, non-canon. Gryffindor and Slytherin have been at war for ages. A mission goes awry and the Gryffindor group is captured. Problem? A certain black-haired, green-eyed boy was with them and assumed to be a squib servant. HP/LV(TMR)

Notes: The setting is sort of like medieval times. Year 1894. There's magic but no prophecy. James and Lily were killed by Voldemort on a mission. Harry sometimes gets visions but wasn't marked by Voldemort. He lives with Sirius and Remus but has to stay with the Dursleys while the former are away (which is quite frequent) to be protected under the blood wards. Voldemort looks like an older Tom Riddle.

Warning: Slash, slightly non-con, may be OOC and pointless slash. (I just felt like reading HP/LV and this has been in my head for about 2 weeks.)

-oO-

"This is just a scouting mission. It's not worth getting captured or killed over. Get out if something goes wrong. Understand?" Kingsley Shacklebolt looked at the others intently, and relaxed slightly upon seeing their nods.

"Five minutes to check all your things. Sirius, a word with you."

Sirius nodded to Remus and he went ahead with the Bill and Charlie Weasley.

"Yes?" he said to Kingsley.

"You may see some familiar faces. I urge you not to be rash."

"Noted," he said curtly.

-oO-

"Portkey activating in 10-"

"Sirius! Remus!" shouted a black-haired boy, running towards them.

"8, 7-"

"Harry! What are you doing?"

"5, 4-"

"He knows," Harry panted. "Don't-" he grabbed Sirius's cloak, "go."

"-2, 1."

And the six of them vanished.

-oO-

Harry stumbled as he landed, feeling queasy from the portkey. Sirius looked furious.

"Damnit Harry! You know better than to touch any mission portkey or persons when the portkey is activating! Do you know how much danger you're in?"

"Calm down," Remus said, putting a hand on his back.

"I'm sorry. I wanted to warn you. He knows. We have to get out immediately," Harry said anxiously, looking around for possible threats.

"I don't see any threats but we'd better split up to our designated areas. It's not good to stay together too long. Even if he doesn't know, we may be detected," Kingsley said.

"I want you to take this portkey and return immediately," Sirius said, giving Harry a non-descript pebble.

"What about you?" Bill said.

"I'll apparate," Sirius said shortly.

"But there are anti-appar-"

Charlie's words were cut off by Sirius's glare.

"I can't take your portkey."

"You don't have a choice. Go."

Several 'pop's sounded, an identifying trademark of apparition. Since they were in the anti-apparation area and only Lord Voldemort's followers can apparate freely in the area, it did not take a genius to guess that they were under attack.

"Accio portkeys!"

All of them cursed and prepared to fight.

"Stupefy! Diffindo! Protego!"

"Reducto! Confundus! Harry's missing. Incarcerous!"

"Petrificus Totalus! I think he took the portkey. Protego!"

"Expelliarmus! Good boy. Furnunculus!"

A yellow light struck his arm and he hissed in pain as the bone shattered.

"Like my present, cousin?"

"Bella," he spat. "Diffindo! Furnunculus!"

"Still using fourth year spells?" she laughed. "Crucio!"

He ducked the red curse and set her robes on fire, followed by a bone-shattering curse. Bella was too slow to get out of the way as she was putting out the fire and shrieked as the curse hit her wand arm.

"Reducto! Crucio! Crucio!"

Sirius reflected the first curse, dived out of the way of the second but landed directly in the path of the last curse, tearing unwilling screams from him.

Harry was horrified. He had been watching the proceedings under his invisibility cloak at the edge of the action. The mad woman was laughing and Sirius was screaming and screaming. Harry took out the dagger that Sirius had given him for his birthday, pressed the emerald in the middle of the handle and threw it at the woman, aiming for the heart or lungs.

Sirius stopped screaming as the dagger embedded itself in the woman's chest. She gasped in shock, wide eyed, and fell to her knees, the poison's paralyzing effect quickly manifesting.

Harry ran to Sirius. "Are you ok?" he asked worriedly.

"Harry?" Sirius looked in his direction blearily, wondering if he was hearing voices.

"I'm here. Under the invisibility cloak."

"I thought you took the portkey."

"I couldn't leave you behind."

Sirius clenched his fist and closed his eyes. "You stupid, stupid boy."

"Stupefy!"

-oO-

"Enervate."

When he woke up, his hands and feet were bound, and all the magical, useful and dangerous items were removed from his person. It seemed like all of them were caught and looking the worse for wear. Most of their clothes had patches of blood here and there, cuts, split lips and bruises. Charlie was cradling his arm and Remus's leg lay at an awkward angle. This was beyond failure for a simple scouting mission. Sirius sighed. At least Harry wasn't caught.

"My Lord, we found another one," said a bulky man with beady eyes, half dragging a familiar figure behind him. Sirius closed his eyes. The man shoved Harry and he stumbled, falling beside Sirius. He had mud and dirt on his face, blood at the side of his lip and cuts and scrapes on his hands and knees. Harry smiled weakly.

"Well, well. What do we have here?"

A hand gripped his jaw and made him turn towards the speaker. Harry blinked at seeing his eyes, slightly disconcerted by their colour, hazel with flecks of red. Other than that, Lord Voldemort looked pretty normal.

His eyes narrowed. "How old are you?"

Harry looked at Sirius, hoping for a clue. Will they be separated if he's too young? He wanted to stay with them.

"18."

18 should be considered nearing adult.

"Really? What is your year of birth?"

Harry hesitated. "1876."

"Liar." Voldemort smiled, deceptively pleasant. "I shall ask once more. How old are you?"

Something in his tone said it would be wise to answer truthfully.

"15."

Harry could feel Voldemort staring at him and he tried not to hold his breath despite being afraid that Voldemort would call his bluff again. It was only a difference of one year. He won't be able to tell, Harry reassured himself.

Voldemort turned to the others.

"Getting children to fight your battles now? Is Gryffindor truly so desperate?"

"He's not supposed to be part of our group to come here," Kingsley said neutrally.

Voldemort twirled his wand. "I suppose he wants to play hero. Typical Gryffindor. Shall I make an example of him?"

"Don't you dare-"

Kingsley pulled Sirius back and said, "The boy is just a squib servant who unknowingly had contact with us when the portkey was activated. He is harmless."

"Black seemed pretty anxious over a mere servant."

"Harry has been with him for a long time."

Voldemort turned to him. "Harry, is it?"

He nodded, uncertain if a response was required.

Voldemort's hand caressed his cheek and rubbed a smudge of dirt away, almost gentle. "Do you entertain your master at night? Is that why he's so protective?"

Harry stared at him, wide-eyed. Sirius choked at the implications, a mix of anger and horror. Even Remus who was usually calm was beginning to look horrified, somehow knowing where this was going.

"Don't touch him!" Sirius struggled against the binds uselessly.

Voldemort smirked and addressed the guard standing behind him, "Get the boy cleaned up and sent to my rooms."

"No, I want to stay with them!" Harry struggled, attempting to kick the guard.

One stunning spell later, Harry was floating peacefully behind the guard. Sirius wanted to tear Voldemort apart. If he dared to- Oh Merlin! He buried his head in his hands. Remus could feel the wolf howling in rage and helplessness. His cub; he failed to protect his cub. Bill, Charlie and Kingsley looked grim. There are no words of comfort for this kind of situation except maybe that Harry is alive but even that is bitter solace.


	2. Chapter 2

**Additional warning**: probable **non-con**, **coercion**, **chan** and **possible character death** in later chapters. Do not read if these squicks you. Thanks.

* * *

Harry had woken up cleaned and healed, his previous cuts, scrapes and bruises gone, his torn clothes replaced by a simple brown tunic and trousers. His guard had coolly told him that he could either be an obedient boy and follow him without any tricks, or he would Stun him and float him to their destination. He had chosen the former because he really didn't want to be unconscious around any Slytherins; who knew what they would do to him. So he acted meek and obedient and followed quietly, covertly looking around for details that would be useful if they were to escape. It was best to be prepared.

"My Lord, the boy is here," his guard said, bowing to Voldemort.

Lord Voldemort's room was big, neat and decorated with interesting artifacts including weapons and still portraits. It was done in forest green and cream, somewhat at odds with what he had expected. Harry thought it would be gloomy with severe, dark colours and overwhelming in its opulence. The man was currently perusing a thick title-less tome and seemed inclined to ignore them.

"Thank you, Nott. Leave us," he said without looking up.

Harry waited, willing himself to be still. He wondered what happened to the others.

"What were your duties before?"

"What?" Harry asked, startled. He thought Voldemort had forgotten he was even there.

"What were your duties as Black's servant?" Voldemort turned a page.

That's right. He was supposed to be Sirius's squib servant.

"I… cook and clean." He had definitely done more than his fair share of cooking and cleaning while staying with the Dursleys.

"He doesn't have a house elf?"

Harry grimaced. Sirius hated that house elf. Harry had pitied him, until he almost got Sirius killed.

"Kreacher is- difficult."

Voldemort finally looked at him. Some indiscernible emotion- Surprise? Interest?- flashed across his face but was quickly masked.

"Any special talents? Maybe in entertaining your master or his guests?"

Talents? He's good at flying. But he didn't know if squibs were supposed to have enough magic to control a broom. He's pretty good with throwing knives too but it won't do to advertise this kind of talent. He wanted them to underestimate him.

"Erm… I'm good at Exploding Snap?"

Harry could swear Voldemort almost wanted to laugh but he just raised an eyebrow and looked at him in such a way that made him feel foolish. Harry felt his cheeks warm and looked away.

"Hmm… you will report to Mdm Livine in the kitchens for your duties. Nott will bring you there."

"Yes, sir," Harry said, remembering he was supposed to be a meek and obedient servant.

-oO-

The boy had surprised him. Under all the grime and dirt just now, he was no different from a street urchin. But properly cleaned and dressed, Harry had a hint of blossoming beauty with fey-like features and brilliant green eyes, and an unexplainable allure. He had hoped, maybe, that the boy would be trained in the bedroom arts because it would make him feel better if he were to bed him, but he guessed Black wasn't as depraved as him.

Despite what he said to Black, he had no intention of raping or even bedding the boy. It was just a way of riling them up, letting them stew in their own horrified imaginings, knowing they were helpless to stop anything he might do to the boy. But now…

No, he will not lust after a child. Lord Voldemort may be ruthless and cruel to his enemies but he tried to leave innocent civilians alone.

Exploding Snap indeed, he chuckled.

He pursed his lips as his gaze fell upon the book he was studying and the dagger on his table. Most of his people involved in the skirmish only suffered minor injuries, nothing that couldn't be healed by magic, but Bella, one of his most loyal, had been poisoned by the dagger. The Healers and Potions Masters are still trying to figure out what poison was used so they could find or make the antidote. Meanwhile Bella was put under the stasis spell to slow down the spreading of the poison.

The Gryffindors claimed the dagger didn't belong to any of them and he had used Legilimency to confirm that they were telling the truth. If it wasn't them, then there must be a traitor in his ranks. Or, at the very least, someone who sought to climb higher by killing Bella in the confusion of a skirmish.

He'll have to find out whom the dagger belonged to.

-oO-

Harry didn't know who Mdm Livine was but the woman in front of him certainly didn't fit the image of any housekeeper he had met before. She seemed to be in her early thirties, tall and thin with sharp features, and certainly not the motherly kind like Mrs Weasley. Of course, expecting any sort of motherly person in the Dark Lord household would be ridiculous. He was in Slytherin territory now, not Gryffindor. Still, everyone here didn't have to look so unfriendly and unapproachable.

She circled him, inspecting him like a hawk does its prey, lifting his arm and poking at his ribs, muttering things like, "too delicate", "not good for hard labour", and "too pretty to serve at meals".

Fine, he may be a bit small but he's still growing and he is not pretty or delicate! Harry tried to keep the scowl off his face and looked ahead blankly.

"I have no use for you besides preparing the food and washing dishes during meal times. But," she glared at him, "don't think you will have time to idle. In between these busy periods, you will be assigned to clean rooms or do whatever Mrs Fields needs you to do."

"Yes, Mdm," he said, keeping his tone mild, and wondered who Mrs Fields was.

"Lunch was just over. Wash, dry, and put those dishes in the cupboard," she said, pointing to a stack of assorted plates and bowls by the large sink. "You may have the leftovers if you're hungry. If not, there's always bread and jam in the basket."

Harry nodded and started towards the sink.

"And don't let me catch you slacking or you will get it," she threatened.

Harry nodded sharply and started soaping the dishes but he didn't relax until Mdm Livine's footsteps faded away and he couldn't feel the weight of her stares anymore. He sighed. In some way, this was almost like dealing with Aunt Petunia, except she ignored him more.

His mind started to wander as his hands soaped, washed, rinsed, dried and stacked the dishes expertly, muscle memory taking over from years of experience gained while living with his aunt.

Find out where the rest are, create a diversion and escape. So I need to get friendly with the staff here, especially the guards. Play the innocent card? Look out for possible allies. If not, wait for opportunity to make use of them to create a diversion. Drug the food? They can't chase after us if they're incapacitated. But we will need enough time to get outside the anti-apparation barriers. 15 minutes? No, no, what if we get lost in the forest? Brooms might be better. Where to get the incapacitating drug? Plants or combinations of common substances would be best since those drugs won't be just lying around. Ok need to find out where the brooms are kept, the meal times of castle staff, guards patrolling area and when is shift change, map of the territory, possible weaknesses, magical alarms, communicate with the rest…

Harry bit his lip. I hope they are all right…

* * *

Thanks to all reviewers:

Akume, Nicomy43, animegurl008, SailorHecate, scardi, TeeDee, wover30, BlueEyes White Dragon Sorcerer, Barranca, Saigo, HoshiHikari, BabyDragon848, DarkBellona, Amarynth, Anave Lipad, Werewolf777, tamachan444, DestinyEntwinements, Xenia Marvolo, justame, figglet, mandi, Von, Jenniyah, HecateDeMort, lemonade, The Shadow Bandit, tati1, HarrySlytherinson, Spirit White, Mystiksnake, acerbus-chan, LandUnderWave, Amylion, obsessiveluv27, Xelena, moonlight44, henriette, allieweasley, oatmeeel, not a daddy's gurl, Squibakou, Ella1331, Illuminatus, Merrymow, PaddycakePadfoot, Wolven Spirits, anonymous, Flying Bears

scardi: Harry is a wizard and minor seer (ie get visions sometimes).

HoshiHikari: Yup, it's an entirely different plotline; there's no boy who lived.

DarkBellona: Harry will try not to show signs of magic. No promises on the fluff but will try.

DestinyEntwinements: Harry is 14

tati1: Shacklebolt doesn't really trust Harry's vision and didn't see any signs of ambush so wanted to carry on with the mission.

acerbus-chan: no key role at the moment. Pretty much pointless slash unless I think of something x

henriette: Harry's parents were killed on a mission. They're not important enough for Voldemort to notice or remember the similarities.

allieweasley: sorry no lemon, not so soon at least. ;)

ilikestories: the setting is sort of like medieval times but it doesn't follow the world's history timeline otherwise it won't be fantasy fiction now would it? This wizarding society is different from real world society and the history that comes along with it. The date is just so Voldemort can tell Harry is lying when he hesitated to answer his year of birth.

There's going to be smut later but I'm getting squicked by Harry's age (14). What do you think?


	3. Chapter 3

Harry sighed. It was so frustrating. It has been almost a week and he was nowhere near starting his plans of escape. In between meal times and chores, he hardly had time to talk to anyone besides a few of the more friendly kitchen staff and servants, not to mention observe the guards or find out more information about the layout of the territory.

Being a captured Gryffindor, the Slytherins were generally wary of him and refrained from speaking too much in his presence least they reveal some important information. He had tried the 'I'm just a harmless kid' card which got some of the female servants to open up but it was not enough because they were not likely to know much about the guards' shift change or patrolled area or security plans et cetera. He decided against dropping the 'I'm a squib' card because he didn't want them to think he couldn't defend himself if needed. It was one thing to be harmless, but another thing to be seen as weak.

"Harry," Daphne said, interrupting his thoughts, "Mrs Fields has assigned you to clean the south wing. She expects it to be done by dinner time."

"Okay thanks, I'll get to it now. Are you coming along?" Harry asked.

She shook her head. "No, not today. I have to run some errands for Mother."

Daphne was the daughter of one of the cooks but she was not really considered a servant, just that she'll come around occasionally to visit her mother or help out during busy periods. She was the only one he has met so far who's around his age. Coincidentally, he's the only servant she has met who's around her age. She started talking to him out of curiosity after knowing he was from Gryffindor. He agreed to tell her more only if she would trade stories about Slytherin. Thanks to her, he felt slightly less ignorant about this place and the people around him. He guessed they were friends, sort of.

"Okay, see you around," Harry said, picking up a pail and some cleaning paraphernalia and heading towards the south wing to start his chores.

It was his first time being assigned to clean the south wing and the place was strangely deserted and quiet compared to the bustle of activities in the main building and north wing. However it didn't seem to be any less used nor well-kept as evident by the lack of any layer of dust.

Most curious, he thought, pushing open one of the doors to reveal what seemed to be a library. It was much smaller than the one in the north wing. Looking through the books on the shelves, Harry realized that it also stocked a more exclusive collection, most of the books a rare edition or the only copy in existence, and some he'd thought were only myths.

'Wow,' he thought, picking out "Casting Parseltongue Spells". It's quite hard to get information on casting spells in parseltongue because parselmouths were few and whatever was documented by them tend to be lost or only passed on to their descendants. Still, it was expected that this rare information would be found in Slytherin's library since Salazar Slytherin was one of the more famous late parselmouths.

Harry opened the book and glanced through the content. He blinked at the illegible squiggles, and blinked again as they start to become understandable. Not exactly English but something that he instinctively comprehends. Written in parseltongue? He didn't think it was possible.

He looked at the clock. Just five minutes, he promised himself, and started reading 'Introduction'.

Voldemort entered the library and headed for his favourite couch. He sighed and wandlessly summoned a few books to him, muttering about useless healers and potions masters. There should be some ways to trace the dagger to its owner and find out what elusive poison was used. Tracing by magical signature was the most common but it seemed that the dagger was charmed to be anti-signature-retaining, among other things.

He flipped through the books and frowned. Where was the other one?

Ouch. Harry rubbed his head as a book flew into him, dropped to the floor and rushed off again. Why were there books flying around?

"What are you doing here?" A voice demanded.

Huh? Harry looked up and saw a displeased Voldemort standing between the shelves, staring at him.

"Uh, I was assigned to clean the room."

"And what were you doing?" Voldemort's pointed glare shifted to the book in his hands.

Harry laughed nervously. "Cleaning the covers. The book was dusty."

"I don't like liars."

Harry bit his lip and looked down. "I'm sorry. The book seemed interesting. I was just flipping through but didn't understand all the squiggles. I'm sorry," he said, clasping the book tightly, trying not to fidget.

"Does Black allow you to do this?"

"He- he doesn't really mind." Harry stole a glance upwards, wondering if it'll get him off the hook as a new servant unfamiliar with the rules.

"Typical Gryffindor. No sense of Master-servant discipline," Voldemort muttered to himself and demanded, "Didn't anyone explain the rules to you?"

"I..." If he said no and Voldemort checked with Mdm Livine, he's going to get into more trouble from both sides. But Voldemort should be too busy to check on such small matters right? However his attempts to lie had all failed so far although he's very sure that he's still shielding... damn. "I forgot. I'm sorry."

Voldemort stared at him for a very long time and Harry tried not to fidget, tried to remember to breathe and tried not to imagine the horrible punishments forthcoming any moment soon.

"Remember it next time. I don't like people to touch my things unnecessarily," Voldemort finally said and walked away.

"Yes sir," he said as evenly as he could and managed to keep a large portion of the relief he felt from coloring his reply. He quickly put the book back and got to work, focusing on cleaning and not the items being cleaned so that he wouldn't 'touch them unnecessarily' because of curiosity.

Voldemort was more lenient than he had expected, Harry mused as he cleaned the shelves, not at all like the stories or rumors. Not yet anyway, he cautioned himself, gathering the cleaning supplies as his chores were completed. On the way out, he passed the sitting area and saw the older man resting, eyes closed, books still opened on his lap and on the table. He didn't seem so scary then, firelight dancing across his brows and face, the slight arc of his neck against the red couch, pale in the shadows.

Sometimes Sirius or Remus was like this too, reading until they fell asleep. Harry would put the books aside, marking the page where it was open, and try to shift them to a lying down position so they won't get a crick in their neck when they wake.

Before Harry could register what he was doing, his feet had already brought him to the man's side, hands stacking the books on the table neatly. He lifted the book on his lap carefully and placed it on top of the others. Then he stared at the older man hesitantly. Voldemort wasn't Sirius or Remus or his friends. Still... Harry stretched his hand towards him and stopped, closing his fingers around air. It was really none of his business. Harry stared for a while longer, then turned and left. He had other chores to do.

Voldemort opened his eyes and smiled slightly.

* * *

Lucius's eyes followed his Lord's gaze to a black-haired serving boy. He didn't know there was a new servant. It was uncommon to buy new servants unless the Keep was really short-staffed. He doubted that policy has been changed in the one week he was away. 

He eyed the boy critically, taking in his slim petite form, fair unblemished skin, and delicate features, the most striking one being his eyes, green, framed with long lashes. He could see that the boy was nervous but coping well, quietly serving and keeping his head lowered, careful not to draw attention. He had to give him points for learning quickly.

"He's a pretty addition to the Keep," Lucius commented, sipping his wine.

"Yes," his Lord said absently, then frowned. "He's not supposed to be serving during meal times."

Lucius silently agreed. Such a pretty face would only attract unwanted attention and get into trouble. Especially since it seemed like his Lord was interested in the boy and his Lord was nothing if not a possessive man with a terrible temper.

Lucius beckoned the head of the staff and said quietly, "Take the boy off the serving staff discretely."

The man nodded and walked to where the boy was. He whispered beside his ear. The boy looked at the head of the staff in relief and left quietly, with the man taking his serving post.

"Now you can concentrate on the food and fulfill your fantasies later," Lucius said amusedly.

His Lord stared at him sharply. "I'm not going to bed the boy."

Lucius shrugged. "You bought him. He's yours. You can do whatever you like. But I must say the pining look is really unbecoming on you."

Lord Voldemort growled warningly. Lucius held up his hands and said, "Fine, it's none of my business."

"Damn right it isn't."

* * *

"The boy's not Slytherin," Lucius said. He had done a little research on the pretty boy and things didn't add up. 

Voldemort looked up, wondering what that has got to do with anything important. "No, he was captured with the group of Gryffindors a few days ago."

Lucius sank down on the couch and crossed his legs. "Then why don't you just bed him and be done with it?"

Voldemort resisted the urge to sigh. So Lucius was still going on about _that_. "Because," Voldemort said patiently, "he's fifteen, or possibly a little younger."

He sat upright. "What? What in Slytherin's name is a child doing on whatever crackpot mission those Gryffindors are on?"

Voldemort leaned back languidly and drawled, "You tell me."

After a moment's silence Lucius said, "You know, there's always the Aging Potion if you're uncomfortable with his age and-" he trailed off under the other man's death glare.

"You know the Aging Potion doesn't make one more mature mentally."

Lucius gave him a sidelong glance. "Would it bother you less if he was guilty of something?"

"Do not get any ideas, Lucius," he warned.

Lucius shrugged. "It doesn't hurt to dig deeper."

"I won't punish him for something you fabricated."

"I'm hurt you would think that I have so little regards for a child's wellbeing."

Voldemort laughed. "You only care when it suits you, Lucius."

Lucius smiled. "Aren't we all the same?"

* * *

Thanks for reviewing! 

sigh... I wanted to show some relationship development but it's really hard to write. And the characters are already OOC. argh. I have some later bits written already but can't link it w/o developing the relationship.

grr... Suggestions welcome.

Or should I just give up on a multi-chapter story and make this into a series of related drabbles?


	4. Chapter 4

**Warning (just to be safe): some violence and reference to non-con  
**

"My lord has been in a foul mood lately," whispered one of the maids, after another of their own – the fourth this week and it's only Tuesday – has practically ran out of the room in terror.

"It's no wonder," an older matron said, careful to keep her voice low and not stopping the motions of cleaning the ornaments. "None of the healers or potions masters has managed to cure Mistress Black. The stasis spell won't hold up much longer, I heard."

Harry kept quiet near them, outwardly appearing to be immersed in his own chores. He felt a little guilty but remembered how that witch had hurt Sirius. Serves her right, he thought as he scrubbed viciously at a spot that refused to come out.

"Those Gryffindors don't know anything about the poison?"

"No idea. I'm sure the Master has already questioned them."

Harry paused. He knew they wouldn't say anything. But would Voldemort resort to more drastic measures to make them talk? He wrung the rag worriedly before realising what he was doing and immediately relaxed his hands, glancing to see if anyone saw his reaction. No one was paying attention to him. He sighed. He really should get a grip on his emotions and reactions.

But the more important thing now is to devise some way that can let him check on the others without being noticed. The house elves usually handle dinner for the prisoners so bringing dinner to them as an excuse wouldn't work. The guards tend to change shift around meal times so it's unnecessary to bring them food. It might work if someone has a double shift and some wives or lovers occasionally drop by with something for their man. But he heard the guards tend to want company and by company it means groping and quick tumbles rather than harmless conversation over food. Harry shuddered. No, not if he can help it.

Maybe he could sneak by the guards? After stealing someone's wand to disillusion himself, of course. He frowned. He wished he had mastered the Animagus transformation. Stealing wands from the Deatheaters would be tricky-

Oof. He stumbled and dropped the pail he was carrying as someone bumped into him, splashing water over the floor and even some on his and the other person's clothes.

"Damn it! Watch where you're going, boy!" the man snarled, casting a drying spell on his clothes and looking up to glare at him.

Harry bit back the retort bubbling in his throat and bent down to pick up the pail and cleaning rag. "Sorry sir," he murmured and bowed shortly, planning to be on his way when a hand grabbed his wrist and jerked him forward. His gaze flew up to the man's face, startled. He had been properly respectful and apologetic. What did the other man want?

The once-through, speculative look that the other man gave him made him extremely uncomfortable and he even felt a bit dirty.

"So you're the pretty boy that our Lord has an eye on," he said softly, leaning in closer. Harry struggled to get away, feeling increasing trapped, but the tight hold on his wrist wouldn't budge and twisting away would definitely result in a sprained or broken wrist.

"Now, don't be in such a hurry to go. I wouldn't mind having a taste of you myself," the man leered and squeezed his arse with his other hand.

Harry struggled to keep his voice even as he said, "Please sir, I have to go. Mdm Livine's expecting me in the kitchens."

He grinned unpleasantly and said, "Well, I hope you're good at blowjobs 'cause I'm not letting you go 'til I come."

Harry's eyes widened and he stumbled as the man pushed him to his knees and fumbled with his trousers. He hit the man between the legs and broke free of his momentarily slackened grip, running away as fast as he could. Harry looked back briefly and cursed. The man was getting up, his wand in hand. Harry managed to dodge a few spells but his shoulder and arm got grazed by a cutting curse while dodging the stunning spells. He ignored the stinging pain and wet stickiness. He knew he'd be worse off than a few superficial injuries if he got caught- his body suddenly froze up and he fell face first onto the floor.

Shit, shit, shit! Harry panicked mentally, struggling against the bindings of petrificus totalus. Someone grabbed him by his hair and slammed him against the wall. He winced but couldn't facially express it as the spell was still in effect.

"You're going to pay for that," the man snarled, half choking him. He frowned slightly at the lack of reaction and lifted the spell.

Harry immediately coughed and scrabbled at the man's hand on his throat. The man pressed his body closer and inserted his right thigh between his legs, effectively pinning him against the wall and preventing Harry from kicking him.

Desperate, Harry swung his free hand at the man, the bottom of his palm aiming for his nose. The man swore as the bridge of his nose snapped upon impact and twisted Harry's wrist hard. Harry gasped at burning pain, almost drowning out the sickening crack.

"You'll be wishing you'd just sucked my cock by the time I'm through with you." He crushed his mouth to Harry's lips but Harry pressed his lips together and twisted to the side. Harry gasped as the man broke another finger and shrank back uselessly against the wall to avoid the invading tongue. He wrinkled his nose in disgust and bit down. The man jerked back and backhanded him twice.

Harry glared at him weakly through his bleary vision and ringing ears. He blinked at the fuzzy images. Maybe he should stop fighting, suddenly felt so tired... He slumped bonelessly to the floor as the man abruptly stepped away from him. He blinked slowly. There was another pair of booted feet up front.

Voldemort eyed the boy on the floor, taking in his various injuries. "Macnair, what was the rule about dallying with the servants?"

Macnair licked his lips and bowed a little as he answered, "Only if they're willing, my lord."

"And?" Voldemort said.

"I was just teaching him to respect his betters," he muttered. "Damned boy didn't say no, just attacked me."

Voldemort arched an eyebrow. "Struggling and running away would have been a sign."

Macnair glared at the boy out of the corner of his eyes and swallowed his anger beneath his Lord's less than pleased stare. "I was overzealous. Forgive me."

Voldemort turned to Harry. "Are you satisfied with the apology?"

Harry stared wide-eyed at him and shuddered at Macnair's menacing glare. "Yes, sir," he said, not looking at either.

The corner of Voldemort's lips tightened at that reaction and he turned back to stare at Macnair. He is off limits, he warned him mentally.

Macnair paled just a little and nodded jerkily. A slight motion of Voldemort's hand signaled his dismissal.

Harry stood up slowly, bracing himself against the wall with his uninjured hand. "May I go too, sir?" Harry murmured, still looking down. He flinched and tried to shy away as Voldemort lifted his chin and looked over his face. A little blue light from his wand healed his split lip and made his cheeks feel less swollen.

"Roll up your sleeves."

He did so quietly, still in shock, partly from being knocked around by Macnair and partly because it was Voldemort healing him. The red finger marks disappeared before they could turn blue-green. He moved his finger and wrist tentatively; they were tender and weak but no longer broken.

"Are you hurt anywhere else?"

Harry blinked. "No sir," he said, voice seeming to come from far away. This is really strange. Maybe he's hallucinating from the hard knock Macnair gave him. He swayed unsteadily. The world whirled around him and faded to black.

Voldemort caught the boy as he fell, and the hand around his shoulder came away sticky red. He frowned and felt around the boy's head for a bump. It seemed Macnair had done more damage than he thought. Perhaps he should declare him off-limits to prevent such from happening again.

-oO-

The sheets beneath him were soft and smooth, unlike the slightly scratchy cotton used in the servants' quarters. His head felt tight and his upper body cool. Harry sat up slowly, lightly feeling the bandage around his head and shoulder. The room looked familiar. He shivered a little as cool wind weaved through the room and wrapped the sheets around him more closely. He got off the bed and exchanged them for the robes draped over a chair after debating the merits of dragging the sheets across the room with him versus 'borrowing' someone's robes.

It was dark outside, streaks of yellow and red faded to dusk. Harry didn't see anyone else in the room. He stood there uncertainly, wondering if he should go. He felt uneasy, alone in Voldemort's room. Still, it would be rude not to thank him before he leaves. Maybe he should wait.

A glint of silver and green on the other side of the room caught his attention. He headed towards it, drawn by a tugging sensation around his core. It was his dagger. He smiled and picked it up, twirling it between and around his fingers, the familiar feel of it in his hands soothing.

"You seem pretty handy with the dagger," Voldemort observed coolly, leaning against the door frame, half in shadows.

Harry startled and dropped the dagger. "Merlin you scared me!" he said, trying to calm his racing heart, thinking how much Voldemort saw and how he can explain any suspicions away. "Don't do that to the person playing with a sharp object. It's hazardous to my health," he joked.

Voldemort's gaze lingered on the dagger then returned to his face. Harry picked it up again and started twirling it between and around his fingers, looking at the motion. Not too fast, he cautioned himself, letting it wobble and slip a little in between rotating pivots. "It's a fancy trick I picked up. Used to practice while chopping vegetables in the kitchen. Pretty neat huh?" he laughed it off.

Voldemort stared at him for a while. Harry's smile faded. "Well, Sirius was impressed," he muttered and stopped playing with the dagger, covering his unease with childish sulk.

"Yes, quite." Voldemort moved towards him and stopped in his personal space, too close for comfort. He plucked the dagger from his hands and tilted it in the dim light, reflecting the glare of the blade. "Not bad, you managed to avoid getting nicked too."

Harry smiled wryly and said, "It wouldn't be much of a trick if I got hurt doing it."

Voldemort smiled, a slight upturn at the corner of his lips, amused. "No, I suppose it wouldn't." He placed the dagger on a thin stack of clean parchments on the table, the only 'tidy' area amidst curling scrolls of scribbled notes and crooked stacks of books.

He turned back to him and Harry's breath caught a little as Voldemort took his chin between his thumb and forefinger and tilted his face side to side. He stared, slightly wide-eyed as Voldemort slid the back of a finger down his cheek and said, "You're healing nicely."

Harry lowered his gaze, feeling a slight flush creeping into his face. "Thank you for your help earlier," he said, looking at his hands.

Voldemort stepped back and he found it easier to breath but at the same time missing the tingly feeling he got at the man's nearness. His brow furrowed in annoyance as he tried to figure out his weird and conflicting reaction. Maybe he's just grateful that he saved him?

"You can stay here tonight."

Harry blinked and looked up, sure that he had misheard. "What?"

"For observation for signs of concussion."

"Oh... it's ok, I'm fine now," he said, uncomfortable with what 'staying here' would entail. And why does he have to stay here anyway? Don't they have a hospital wing or healers' room or something?

"As you wish," Voldemort walked behind his desk and sat down. "Take the day off tomorrow if you don't feel well. You may go."

"Yes sir. Thank you." Maybe Voldemort really was just being nice without the ulterior motives, however foreign that thought may be. Harry bowed a little and moved towards the door. He paused when he realised he's still wearing the borrowed robes.

Voldemort was still watching him when he turned back. "Erm, the robes?" he gestured self-consciously, half-moving to take them off.

Voldemort raised an eyebrow. "You want to walk back topless?"

Harry blushed and mumbled, "No, but I can't find my clothes."

Voldemort smiled faintly. "Keep the robes."

"Yes sir. Thank you," Harry murmured and frowned mentally. He seemed to be repeating that a lot today. Voldemort was being awfully nice; it was upsetting his perception of the man. He left with a jumble of thoughts, almost missing a few turns to the servants' quarters.

* * *

Thanks for all the encouragement and suggestions and for sticking with this story despite long periods between updates :)

I'm not really satisfied with this chapter but it's been sitting in my com for some time and going nowhere better so I thought I'd just post this. I felt Harry was 'thinking' too much (ie. redundant thoughts) and some dialogue doesn't flow and some characters' actions don't make sense. sighs. What do you think?


	5. Chapter 5

Harry felt Macnair glaring at him whenever they passed each other and kept expecting the man to attack him but he didn't do anything beyond the threatening looks. He was slightly puzzled and half relieved. He thought Macnair would be the type to take revenge. He shrugged. He'll just be thankful to whatever higher powers made it so and not question his good luck. But it didn't mean Harry stopped making sure he was never alone in deserted corridors and isolated rooms as far as possible.

He ignored the speculative looks cast his way and the whisperings that quieted when he neared, attributing it to curiosity yet unsatisfied about the 'new boy' despite it nearing the end of the second week since his appearance. At least he hoped it wasn't about what Macnair tried to do to him a few days ago.

Funny, the kitchen has become unusually quiet. He looked up from the soapy dishes. Everyone was staring, curious and startled faces. Harry followed their line of sight and saw a platinum blond haired man, his silver grey eyes looking straight at him. He tensed as the man walked towards him, although he felt relatively safe here with so many 'witnesses'. The man stopped a few steps away, a nice distance outside of his personal space.

"I want to talk to you. Come," he said, turning away without even seeing if he would follow.

Harry hesitated. Did he really want to leave this nice public space and follow some unknown Deatheater somewhere? No. Did he have a choice? Not really.

He sighed inaudibly and quickly dried his hands before following the man, his mind searching for the identity of the man from the memories of his talks with Daphne. Blond hair, grey eyes... Malfoy? Voldemort's right hand man, is married, has a son around his age, which probably makes him less inclined to sexually assault him, known to be ruthless but not unnecessarily cruel, which is also a relatively good thing compared to Macnair... But he still did not trust any of them.

They seemed to be heading towards the south wing. Harry became slightly tenser as the surrounding noise was left behind. They turned into one of the rooms and Malfoy sat on one of the tall-backed chairs in front of a tea table. He gestured to another chair opposite him as Harry hovered uncertainly by the side.

This was new, being treated like an equal instead of a servant, Harry thought as he took a seat.

"What are you going to do?" Malfoy asked without any preamble.

Harry furrowed his brows. "I don't understand, sir?"

"My Lord has offered you protection," he elaborated. "Surely you ought to do something for him in return."

"Protection, sir?"

Malfoy looked at him closely, lips pursed in a faint hint of annoyance. Harry wondered if he would bother to explain.

"Yes, protection. Surely you don't think Macnair would leave you alone without some," he paused, searching for the appropriate term, "persuasion?"

So that's why Macnair has been staying away. Harry frowned. Does this mean he owe Voldemort a favor? He wished Voldemort would stop doing confusing things like this. He was planning to escape, to drug the guards and maybe steal some brooms, but Voldemort's actions made him feel guilty about his plans. Harry didn't like owing people favors; it has a bad precedence of coming around to trip him up.

"I didn't ask for his protection," he said sullenly, slightly irritated at having to deal with these conflicting thoughts about the man and his feelings of obligation. Why can't Voldemort just stay in the nice little box of 'evil dark lords' and stop making him question his worldview?

"But you have it nonetheless." Malfoy leaned back, a study of casual nonchalance, but his eyes were sharp. Harry had a feeling that his next sentence is going to be provocative. "I thought Gryffindors had a strong sense of obligation to repay their debts."

Harry folded his arms and leaned back, mirroring Malfoy's posture. "How do I know that he didn't 'protect' me and send you to ask for repayment?"

Malfoy blinked and stilled, as if surprised by the question. Then he laughed, a soft amused sound that was real and not part of the game they were playing. His gaze held warmer interest and speculation, and made him uncomfortable. Not the way that Macnair had made him feel, dirty-uncomfortable, but uncomfortable as if he had revealed more than he should.

"No, I suppose you won't know. But if it makes you feel better to think that way to avoid returning the favor in some way..." he trailed off and shrugged, careless actions harboring accusations.

Harry glared at him. He will not be guilt-tripped. He will not give in to the reverse psychology attack. But Malfoy has boxed him into a corner that his pride will not allow. Damn it. He pressed his lips together. Stupid sense of obligation.

"Fine. I'll think of something," he said bitingly. "But there is little I can do that he can't achieve by himself or his authority."

"Hmm... I can think of one off the bat." Malfoy smiled, like the cat who got the canary, and so smug that Harry _knew_ he'd missed something in agreeing. "I'm sure you can figure it out."

Harry frowned, debating whether to ask, since asking might trap him further. "Why don't you just tell me what he wants?"

"Ah, but I'm not supposed to interfere," he drawled, the corners of his lips turned up.

Harry almost snorted but remembered it would be very rude for a servant to do so. He settled for being sarcastic, since Malfoy didn't lash out at his previous retort and even seemed amused. "Right. And suggesting that I should do something to repay him is not interfering."

"It's your decision." He shrugged.

"Of course," Harry said dryly, "I absolutely do not feel any pressure to do so."

Malfoy laughed, the second one in five minutes. Either he's a naturally cheery man or he's just a smug bastard. "I'm glad we agree."

Harry stared at him, un-amused.

Malfoy matched his stare, almost thoughtful. "Pity, you're a squib," he murmured after a while.

"What?"

Malfoy stood up. "Well, you may go back to your chores," he said and left the room, ignoring the question.

Harry glared at his retreating back. Smug bastard.

-oO-

Do something for him. Something, something... what thing?

Harry sighed in frustration, running his hand through his hair. Did he really have to think about this now? He has not even made any progress towards the escape plan, nor come close to seeing the others. He hit the wall and winced. Damnit!

"What's wrong with you?"

He turned around and saw Daphne looking at him quizzically.

"Nothing," he said, rubbing his painful knuckles.

Daphne arched an eyebrow. "Doesn't look like nothing when a wall is being beaten up."

"I wouldn't call one punch getting beaten up," Harry said sullenly.

Daphne crossed her arms. "You're avoiding the issue."

"You can't help so stop asking."

"How do you know I can't help if you don't ask?"

Harry rolled his eyes at her stubbornness, but decided it wouldn't hurt even if she knew. "Fine. Do you know how I can get to see the other Gryffindor prisoners?"

"Why?" she asked suspiciously.

"'Cause they're my friends and I'm worried about them," he snapped.

"Okok, you don't have to snap at me," she huffed.

Harry ran his hand through his hair agitatedly. "Sorry. I'm in a bad mood."

"You can try asking the Dark Lord," she suggested.

Harry stared at her incredulously. "You're insane! He would never agree."

She shrugged. "It's worth a try."

He bit his lower lip. "I'll think about it."

-oO-

Harry balanced the tray of tea and sandwiches on one hand and knocked before entering. Voldemort was surrounded by books and barely spared him a glance as he set the tray down on the only small unoccupied corner of the table.

"Mdm Livine asked me to bring these." He eyed the books and noted that they were mostly on potions and poisons. "Are you researching? Can I help?"

Voldemort lifted his eyes from the book on his lap and looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

Harry flushed and looked away. "I'd really like to help," he muttered, "to thank you for helping with Macnair."

"What knowledge do you have of potions and poisons?"

"Erm, I know the basics of potions, like reactivity of ingredients, effects of different preparation methods, hypothetical results of mixing ingredients of different bases. And I can identify common poisons." He also tried to reverse-concoct antidotes with about 70% success rate and experimented in creating poisons.

"You're pretty educated for a squib servant," Voldemort stated.

Harry smiled nervously. "I like reading and Master Black allows me to use the library in my free time."

Voldemort considered for a while. "Very well. You may take that stack of books and look for poisons with symptoms of rapid paralyzing effect, loss of involuntary body functions like breathing and probable death by asphyxiation."

That sounded like the effects of his dagger's poison. The witch must be important for Voldemort to spend so much personal effort on finding an antidote. Fine, this will be the 'something' he would do to repay him.

"Yes sir," Harry said and got to work. Let's see... which books did he refer to when experimenting with the poison? He'll have to come up with a few options to prevent suspicions on getting it right so easily. He scanned through the index of the books. Nightshade, Basilisk venom, Slyth's cocktail, Black water, Seltoxin- damn, these books only have existing or recorded poisons. It looks like he would have to do this the long way to avoid suspicions. Assuming the stasis spell was cast almost immediately, he would have around one week to play with, probably less if giving allowance for gathering ingredients and preparing the antidote. He sighed mentally. All this sneakiness is making his head hurt.

It's going to be a long week...

* * *

Sorry for the long wait. I wanted to end it at a later scene and show some relationship development, but this chapter has been kind of stagnant since Feb and I wasn't making further progress despite trying.

Thanks for all the reviews and encouragement.


	6. Chapter 6

Voldemort looked at the boy's slumped head on the table, surrounded by books and parchments, and glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece. He hadn't realized it was already so late.

He closed his eyes and rested his head on the back of the high-backed armchair. The past few days had been… trying, having the boy so near him all the time, his urges to reach out and touch, kiss, possess-

He had had to remind himself he will not lust after a child, no matter how tempting the boy was. So it's all 'look, don't touch', but it doesn't mean he can't play a little – sharp words and scornful glares provoking him to anger, watching him grind his teeth and bite his lip, angry green eyes not quite hidden beneath lowered gaze. Of course, the boy could not keep up the meek act and exploded on the third day. It was entertaining, but anger would not endear him to the boy so now he's resorting more to innuendos and heated glances, watching him stammer and blush and act unaffected.

Dangerous grounds, really. He doesn't know why he's testing himself in this way. He sighed and opened his eyes.

The boy was sitting cross-legged on the floor and resting his head on his right arm on the table, facing away from him. He was going end up with a sore neck and back if he left him here.

Voldemort nudged the boy's thigh with his feet. No reaction. He floated a quill over the boy's left arm and lightly brushed the feathered end along his bare arm a few times. The boy twitched and murmured inaudibly, and turned his face the other way, resting on his left arm. Voldemort observed his features, half cast in shadows and had the irresistible urge to let his fingers trace the shadows down the bridge of his nose to his lips, chin, jawline, following down to the small silver of exposed flesh along his tunic's neckline…

The boy suddenly jerked awake and Voldemort was startled out of his thoughts, thinking, for a split second, that the boy had known what he was thinking. But his gaze was blurred with sleep and only cleared after a few blinks of dark long lashes, looking around as if trying to remember where he was.

"I'm so sorry," Harry said, massaging the back of his neck, "I'm almost done with these."

"No, it's late. You should go to bed," Voldemort said.

-oO-

Harry looked at the list of ingredients and combinations he had written down. He's just short of two steps to the fourth possible alternate poison and its theoretical antidote, then he can hand the list to Voldemort and leave the rest of the work to the potion masters and healers.

Five days ago, he had started his research by looking through the books, writing down possible poisons, why they fit or do not fit the description given by Voldemort, and the antidotes listed. Unable to find any close matches to the poison (not that he had expected otherwise), he had suggested trying to reformulate the poison based on its effects and ingredient composition derived from the poison's properties analyses. Apparently all the Potions Masters had tried and failed. Voldemort had said as much and indulgently invited him to try, even granting him access to all documentation of the Potions Masters' research. Harry just smiled inside and commenced the real work.

"Just a while more. I'm almost done with these, really," he said.

"You've been staying up for the past few nights. Go get some sleep."

"But I-"

"Do you want me to tie you to the bed?"

Harry gaped at him, then caught a glint of amusement in Voldemort's eyes.

The past few days of researching has resulted in some sort of odd… _something_ between them. After the first two days of biting his tongue against the man's sharp wit and scathing remarks, he had finally snapped out of his meek servant demeanor and gave as good as he's got.

_Voldemort's slight raise of his brows was the only indication of his surprise and Harry feared he had gone too far and immediately looked down and apologized. _

_But Voldemort's soft chuckles drew his gaze up and he watched as the man tapped his chin and drawled, "So the kitten has claws. I was beginning to wonder how far I can push."_

_He sputtered and said, "You…"_

"_I?" Voldemort prompted, amused, but also carrying slight warning in his tone._

_Harry deflated and said flatly, "You're cruel."_

"_Cruel," he repeated thoughtfully, and smiled. "You haven't seen cruel yet."_

_Harry flinched but elaborated, "You kept provoking me because you want me to lose my temper. But I can't lose my temper because I'm afraid you'll punish me. All these anger, fear and uncertainty are driving me crazy and I don't know what you want!_

"_If my presence here is annoying, I can bring the books elsewhere and research." _

_A long silence ensued. _

"_I see," Voldemort said finally. "I want many things," he paused, eyes darkened and intent on him, "I want you to stop treating me like homicidal maniac who'd hurt you for the slightest mistake you make or for every minor infraction you commit. I want you to stop being overly fearful of me. I want you to forget all the rumors you've heard about Slytherins. I may be a strict master but I'm also a fair master. Have I hurt you yet? Apart from Macnair's isolated incident, has anyone here laid a hand on you?"_

_Harry stared at Voldemort, speechless at the unexpected turn of conversation. "No," he said, confused and slightly ashamed. A voice in his head whispered that Voldemort was known to be a charismatic, persuasive speaker._

_He took a deep breath and exhaled. "Ok, I'll try to behave normally around you. But can you stop baiting me please? I don't know what's the appropriate response and I don't want to accidentally make you angry."_

_Voldemort studied him for a few moments, tapping his fingers rhythmically against the hardcover book. His fingers stilled and he said carefully, "I won't hurt you for responding, within reasonable limits, to my baiting when we're alone."_

After that conversation, Harry was more relaxed around Voldemort. It helped that the man had stopped cutting him down for every question he asked. However they were replaced by suggestive remarks and dark glances. He'd learnt to use sarcasm and act nonchalant before he expired from excessive blushing. But he still couldn't master Voldemort's signature raised eyebrow in lieu of his various blatant expressions of shock. Which brings him back to the latest suggestive remark...

Harry rolled his eyes and replied dryly, "I'm sure you'll just love that."

Voldemort smirked, moved closer to him and said softly, "I'm sure you'll like it too."

Harry felt trapped by his heated gaze and overwhelmed by the rapid invasion of his personal space. Sometimes Voldemort would read over his shoulder and be so close to touching that he could almost hear his breath. Harry would keep very still at times like this, trying to stop his magic from leaking out to touch the man's aura. There's something about his magic, their magic, and he blamed it for some of the shivers, breathlessness and heart thudding symptoms he would experience when the man was too near.

Harry licked his lips nervously and asked, "What are you doing?"

"What do you think I'm doing?" His voice was low and husky.

"Mortifying me with innuendos?" Harry smiled weakly, holding his breath, holding his fists clenched behind his back, holding his magic back.

"Guess again," Voldemort murmured, now so close that their noses were almost touching, and his gaze flittered to his lips.

Wide-eyed, Harry scrambled backwards. "Ok I'm going, I'm going! Good night!"

He almost ran out of the library in his haste.

What the _hell _was that?

He had been so close to losing control of his magic. If a tendril had touched Voldemort's aura...

Harry took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose hard. Dear Merlin, he must have been so exhausted that his control is weak and that he's taken temporary leave of his senses and flirted with the Dark Lord.

What was wrong with Voldemort anyway? He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head, trying to shake off the memory of his smoldering eyes and husky voice.

It must have been just a ploy to get him into bed. He mentally winced at how that sounded and immediately scratched it out and replaced it with 'to get him to go to bed'.

-oO-

Harry didn't get much sleep in the end; too many confusing thoughts and feelings flitting across his mind for a peaceful rest. He resorted to meditating, planning out the remaining steps of the alternate poison and its theoretical antidote, trying to remember from which books in the library he could cross reference and support his conclusions. Then he meditated into a semi-sleep state which was more restful than staring at the ceiling and letting his thoughts run.

Harry woke about two hours before the other servants and decided to go back and finish his write up. He peered into the library cautiously and, seeing nobody there (least of all a certain Dark Lord), walked to his usual spot by the table and started writing.

He double-checked the facts and references, made sure there was nothing suspicious that pointed to prior knowledge of the poison, and left the sheets of parchments on top of the tidied stacks of books.

Now he just had to survive today's chores while running on little to no sleep.

At times like this, he really wished he had access to Pepper-up potion.

-oO-

The boy is a bundle of mystery and contradictions.

Voldemort scanned through the parchments and had to marvel at the amount of work and thought that went into these. He couldn't believe the boy had come up with the combinations and treatments of ingredients that might recreate the unknown poison in such a short time. He even reworked the antidotes on the basis that the poisons were the one they were looking for. Impressive work for only five days. And it bespoke a very thorough knowledge of the properties and inter-reactivity of ingredients

Why would a squib be so well-versed in Potions?

He frowned, comparing Harry's proposed formulas with the notes of his Potions Masters on the combinations they had tried in order to recreate the poison. According to their experiments, the 27th combination seemed to produce the closest results to the actual poison when subjected to various property and reactivity breakdown analyses. But the effect of that combination had caused severe headache and extremely slow death by brain hemorrhage instead of rapid paralyzing effect and probable death by asphyxiation when tested on a live subject.

Harry's third formula was very similar to his Potions Masters' 27th combination, except that daisy roots was crushed with poppy seeds, and the fairy blossoms have to be plucked at full moon instead of new moon. Poppy seeds and full moon... yes that might enhance the headaches to paralyzing effect and reduce the dilution of blood capillaries caused by the horned toad skin and-

He should stop theorizing and get the Potions Masters to do the actual tests.

* * *

I'm kind of unsure about this chapter. Is it choppy or contradictory to the previous chapters? Please let me know what you think. Thanks.

Disclaimer: the potion rambling on effects or reactivity of ingredients etc has no basis in fact/ canon.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter warnings: non-con (touching), chan / underage, slash  
**

-oO-**  
**

"My lord, I have good news. The poison is a match with the formula that you gave me.

We've prepared the proposed antidote and came up with several viable alternatives. Testing is in progress at the moment," Snape said.

Voldemort smiled. "That's good."

"If you don't mind me asking, who came up with the formula? The handwriting is unfamiliar."

"The Gryffindor boy did the research. He wanted to repay me for helping him."

Snape frowned. The Gryffindor squib?

Voldemort laughed, seeing that look on his face. "Yes. I'm curious too. He says Black allowed him to use his library."

Snape remained silent, thinking. Voldemort looked at him.

"Is there something you want to say?"

The boy has some talent in Potions. But a squib! Maybe he's not strong enough to do spells but has enough innate magic to create Potions? The combinations of ingredients and extrapolation of their effects in his research were not merely regurgitation of facts found in books. Looking at the various book references in it, others may not be able to tell that it contained practical knowledge as well, but he would know better as a Potions Master. It's the little steps that went against convention, the exceptions in general theory not written in any books.

"He has some talent in Potions."

Two short knocks on the door interrupted their conversation. A pale woman with long blond hair rushed in, cheeks flushed with exertion, and smiling.

"My lord, Severus, the antidote worked!" she said breathlessly.

"That's wonderful news, Narcissa. Has it been administered to Bella?" Voldemort asked, leaning forward in his chair.

"No, we were testing it on a live subject. The Potions Masters and healer are still observing the subject and making sure there are no side effects. Once it has been cleared for use, we'll consult the healer on the best way to administer the antidote. Bella doesn't have much time once the stasis spell is lifted." The light in her eyes dimmed slightly.

"I see. At least we got the antidote. I'm sure Bella will be fine," Voldemort said, patting Narcissa's hand.

"Yes, my lord. I'm going to check on their progress."

"Inform me if there's any change in her condition." Voldemort looked at Snape. "Severus, you should go too. Convey my thanks to the team for their hard work."

"Yes, my lord." Snape bowed a little and left with Narcissa.

-oO-

"Here's the tea you asked for," Harry said and set the tray of snacks on the table.

Voldemort eyed him silently then said, "You haven't come here for a few days."

Harry furrowed his brows, confused. "I heard Mistress Bella is recovering. So I thought you've no need of me for research anymore."

Voldemort tapped his fingers on the arm of the couch. "You can study the Potions books here in the evening," he said abruptly.

Harry blinked, surprised at the offer.

"You've some talent in Potions. Talent should be nurtured."

Harry bit his lip, considering. He was really tempted; Voldemort had some rare Potions books in his collection. Maybe he can even sneak in one or two Parselmagic books. But it would be unwise to spend so much time with him, especially with the strange reaction of his magic when the man was too near. Most of the time he had no problems keeping his magic tightly coiled inside him, wrapping his aura as close to his body as possible, but tendrils kept trying to escape when Voldemort was too near him. More importantly, he did not have time to waste after the disturbing rumours he heard a few days ago.

"Thank you for the offer," he said hesitantly. "But I don't think I would have time. I have chores to do." And wandless summoning spells to master.

"Mdm Livine will release you from chores after dinner."

"I-" Harry shifted his feet. "I feel uncomfortable near you," he muttered, not looking at Voldemort.

Voldemort drew his brows together, slightly perturbed. Had he been harassing the boy too much? "Uncomfortable in what way?"

In the way my magic wants to crawl out of my skin, Harry thought frustratingly. But he couldn't say that so he settled for a half-truth. "I think I'm just really nervous if you're too close."

Voldemort hmm-ed and asked, "And what are the symptoms?"

"Err.. hyperawareness, heart beating too fast, breathlessness."

Voldemort raised his eyebrow at the list and a slow smile spread across his face. "Are you sure you're not just aroused?"

Harry's eyes widened and he spluttered, "What! No!"

"I could help you with that problem," Voldemort continued heedlessly, eyes glinting with amusement.

"No!" Harry said vehemently. "And stop doing that! Stop playing games with me. I am not your entertainment!" he burst out, fists clenched. He turned around and blinked back angry tears, inhaling deeply and holding his breath. What the hell is wrong with him? It's not like the teasing is new.

"Are you done?" Voldemort asked calmly.

"I'm sorry," he said after exhaling slowly. "I've been stressed lately." His attempts at wandless magic had not been going well and a few days ago, he had heard rumours of guards disposing the bodies of some prisoners. He didn't know who and he was so afraid it might be his friends.

"Why? Has Macnair been harassing you again?" Voldemort's tone was sharp, laced with a tinge of anger.

"No, it's not that." Should he ask? Daphne said he could try asking and Voldemort has been nice and reasonable so far. He turned back to Voldemort and said, "I'm worried about the other Gryffindors. Can I see them, please? Just for a while. Just to see that they're-" alive. He choked, "that they're ok."

Voldemort studied him silently. Harry could feel tears welling up again and he's so angry at himself, his helplessness and frustration. He bit his lips to keep them from trembling. He would not cry, damn it.

"Is that why you're so upset?"

He nodded jerkily, not trusting his voice not to break.

"Very well. You may see them later."

Harry's head snapped up in surprise. Was it really so easy? Overwhelmed by relief and happiness, his body acted before he thought through his actions and before he realised it he was hugging Voldemort and saying thank yous over and over.

Then he realised who he was hugging and quickly stepped back. Red faced, he mumbled a sorry but couldn't help still beaming and thanking him again before he left the room.

Stunned by the spontaneous hug, Voldemort watched him leave without a word. He touched his shirt where he could almost feel the lingering warmth of the boy against him and smiled a little. He decided he liked seeing the boy happy and the spontaneous acts of gratitude. He wondered if he could get the boy to kiss him next time.

-oO-

"Harry!" Sirius cried out, hugging him tightly. "Are you ok? Did they hurt you?" he asked worriedly while looking over him for injuries, brushing his hair back, his hands patting down from Harry's shoulders to his arms and hugging him again.

"I'm ok," Harry said, his voice muffled in Sirius's chest. "They didn't hurt me. Well, except for Macnair. But Voldemort saved me."

"What? What did Macnair do? I'll kill him when I have the chance. Wait- what do you mean Voldemort saved you?" Siruis asked, stopping his protective ranting.

"Erm, he stopped Macnair and healed me," Harry muttered, not looking at any of them.

"What?" They were dumbfounded.

"Are you sure?" Remus asked.

"Maybe he orchestrated the thing," Bill suggested.

Harry shrugged uncomfortably. "He's been pretty nice to me, for an evil Dark Lord."

"I'm sure he wants something. Information maybe. You haven't told him anything right?"

Harry glared at Sirius. "I'm young, not stupid."

Sirius eyed the guards standing outside, bent down and tugged Harry closer to him such that he was sitting on his lap, facing the others. He whispered beside Harry's ear, "Code to D. Talk normally."

"How is everyone? What has happened since we were separated?" Harry asked, looking around, ignoring Sirius's finger tracing his right palm. He was surprised but relieved to find that they did not look too bad, not like they were tortured or starved.

"We're ok. They healed our wounds and slapped on power suppressors on us. Been in the cell since. Besides the veritaserum questioning on the poison," Bill said.

"Oh," Harry said faintly. "Is this normal treatment? I mean, I'm glad everyone is well but I've been imagining the worst and well, it's... odd compared to the horrifying rumours we usually hear..."

"I think we're trading prisoners."

"Really?" Harry turned to look at Sirius. "Does that mean we can go home soon?"

The adults exchanged silent glances.

"What?" Harry demanded. "Tell me."

Remus took his left hand and squeezed it slightly. "It's possible. We don't know yet."

Harry looked at their clasped hands and squeezed back. "Ok. So... just keep out of trouble?"

"Do you even have to ask that?"

Harry stuck out his tongue childishly. They laughed.

From far, a pair of eyes narrowed.

-oO-

"Hello," Harry said cheerfully, "I know you'd be here so I bought some tea and sandwiches."

He placed the tray on the coffee table and prepared the tea the way the other man preferred it- one cube of sugar, two sprigs of peppermint leaves and a sprinkle of cinnamon before pouring tea into the cup.

"Is something wrong?" Harry asked, because Voldemort was staring at him with an unreadable face, unlike his usual self.

"How was the visit?" Voldemort asked abruptly, ignoring his question.

Harry smiled. "It's good. I was worried... but it's good to see them again. Thanks for letting me go."

"Well, since I made you so happy, shouldn't you do something to thank me?"

Harry looked up, surprised. There's something in his tone... "What do you want me to do?"

"How about a kiss?"

"A kiss?" he repeated confusedly. "But we're-"

Harry fell awkwardly against Voldemort as the man pulled him into his lap and suddenly lips were on his, insistent and unrelenting. Harry pushed against him but the arms around him tightened. He tried to protest and Voldemort slipped his tongue in, brushing against his. It was overwhelming, heady and actually kind of pleasant. He slowed his struggles, palms resting on Voldemort's upper chest, and moved his tongue experimentally, brushing slightly against the older man. Voldemort deepened the kiss, pressing him down on the couch, hands slipping under his tunic, touching him- Harry gasped, "No. Stop." and pulled away, breathless and trembling, slightly in shock. He stared at the older man, wide eyed, and stood up abruptly.

"I think- " he licked his lips nervously, "I think I should go."

Voldemort's stalked towards him – Harry backed away in the face of Voldemort's anger until he hit the wall - and sneered, "Why? Think you're too good for Slytherins?"

Bewildered, he only stared dumbly. Voldemort was in a dangerous mood and Harry didn't understand what he was implying.

"I know you're not Black's servant."

Harry's eyes widened. How did he find out? Stick to the story no matter what, Sirius said.

"What?" he said.

"You're his catamite."

"What?" Now he's really confused. What is a catamite? "What are you talking about?"

Voldemort pushed him against the wall. "I saw you and Black hugging, fussing over each other. It's sickening, you acting innocent all this time."

Harry shook his head. "I'm not-"

"I bet he loans you out too. I saw you were quite close to Lupin."

Harry, finally realising what Voldemort was insinuating, was horrified and outraged. "I'm not-"

Voldemort kissed him, harder this time, biting, licking, demanding.

Harry was stunned momentarily but pushed against him as a warm wet tongue entered his mouth. He renewed his struggles as he felt a stray hand moving up under his tunic, rubbing and flicking his nipple, then trailing down, rubbing his crotch through the fabric.

He gasped for breath as Voldemort's lips finally released his mouth, face white with anger and shock.

"What the hell are you doing?" he hissed and pushed against Voldemort's chest. "Let me go, you- you horrible pervert! How could you even think that I- I- it's disgusting."

A wave of magic draw his hands up against the wall and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't move them. He tried kicking but his legs were stilled too. Harry felt the first spark of panic as he realized his helpless position.

"Disgusting, am I," Voldemort whispered, his breath tickling his ear and he flinched away as Voldemort licked the crease of his ear. Harry gasped as Voldemort's hand slipped into his trousers and gripped him, slowly stroking up and down. Another hand splayed across his bare buttocks, squeezing.

"St- stop," he stammered, eyes wide, terrified.

The older man rubbed the tip of his cock and tightened his grip a little. Against his will, Harry's body began to respond, his cock hardening in the man's grasp. "You seem to enjoy my disgusting touch. Do you like it when Black touches you like this?"

"He never- never…" Harry choked, "please stop."

"What is he to you?"

A finger trailed the cleft of his ass lightly, rubbing up and down his puckered opening. Harry turned his face away, tears gathering at the corners of his eyes.

"My- my master. He raised me- me from young. He- he's like a fa- father to- to me."

Voldemort looked at him for a long time then brought him to climax with a few quick strokes, no longer toying and his expression almost clinical except for the heat in his eyes. He stepped away and wiped his hand with a napkin that seemingly appear and disappear.

"You may go," he said, as if nothing had happened.

The magic released him and Harry collapsed like a puppet whose string has been cut, trembling, trembling with shame and anger and barely suppressed magic.

How dare he?

"You couldn't just ask your questions, could you?" he lashed out. "Oh no, had to teach the boy a lesson and maybe get my jollies at the same time. Does it excite you when I resist? Should I beg louder next time? Perhaps scream and cry? You're a sick bastard."

Harry knew he had gone too far a second before an invisible force held him up by the throat, making him hover a few inches off the floor. He choked and clawed at the area around his throat, legs kicking uselessly trying to reach something to stand on. Just as he thought he's going to pass out, the invisible hand vanished and he fell to the floor, coughing and gasping for air.

"Get out," Voldemort said coldly.

He scrambled, pulling his clothes around him and ran.

-oO-

Voldemort's fist hit the table hard. A vase nearby shattered. How could he have lost control like that? Easy. He'd been blinded by jealousy and possessiveness when he saw the boy with his master and friends in the cell, so cozy sitting in another man's lap, holding another man's hand, laughing together. It had taken all his will power not to stalk into the cell and pull the boy away and punish him by fucking him into oblivion. Dear Slytherin, what the hell is _wrong_ with him?

The level of possessiveness and sexual desire for the boy was similar to that of an unconsummated claim between magic bond-pairs. But historically, pairing only happened between magical individuals of compatible power, complimentary strengths and weaknesses. The pair would be stronger and more powerful together than the sum of their individual abilities and power. His current state made no sense because the boy is a squib!

A sudden cacophony of breaking sounds drew his attention. Shattered plates, cups, teapot, vase, ornaments and other peripherals lay haphazardly on the floor. He was momentarily stunned.

For goodness sake, this is getting ridiculous. He had not had incidences of accidental magic since he was 15.

He sat down and pressed his hand against his forehead.

He needed to research.

He refused to believe he would stoop so low as to manhandle and molest an innocent.

There must be a reason.

There must be.

-end chapter-

AN: Thanks for all the reviews and PMs about the story, prompting me to work on it again. Umm.. I have to say that the plot ran away from me towards the end of this chapter. But maybe there will be a happier ending this way.

Let me know what you think of this chapter :)


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